


Vibranium.

by personaljunkdrawer



Series: Marvel Ficlets - Inspired by Discord [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, He's alive and he's horny, M/M, Open Relationships, Peter is 18, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sexual Frustration, Smut, Tony Stark Lives, Tony has a vibranium arm, Tony needs help using his new arm, putting the 'vibe' in 'vibranium'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 10:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25847932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/personaljunkdrawer/pseuds/personaljunkdrawer
Summary: Bucky made some grunt of mild approval. "Youneedmyhelp?" He flicked the cup twice, the tintinnabulation of metal on ceramic ringing. It didn't crack. Didn't even shift. "With your arm?""Yes...well, with the...I need to use my arm." Fuck this was not going nearly as smoothly as planned. But what even was the plan? Just walk in at 7am and ask a WWII-Vet H.Y.D.R.A.-escapee-cyborg to teach him how to jerk off in the cold judgemental light of day? Smooth plan.Real smooth.---Tony survived End-Game but ended up losing his arm and having it replaced with a vibranium arm like Bucky's. And that's all good and fine except he really can't figure out how to use the damn thing when he really needs to.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers (briefly), James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts/Peter Parker (briefly), Tony Stark/Peter Parker (mentioned)
Series: Marvel Ficlets - Inspired by Discord [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871188
Comments: 10
Kudos: 126





	Vibranium.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Itfeelssogoodmrstark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itfeelssogoodmrstark/gifts), [TellMeNoAgain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/gifts).



> And we're back! Thank you again to Itfeelssogoodmrstark and the amazing TellMeNoAgain (go read and kudos literally every word they've written, they're incredible) for the inspiration and assistance with this one.

“Lights down, FRI.” Tony grumbled.

“The lights are already off, Sir.” She chimed smoothly from the ceiling.

“Blackout protocol, then.”

“The blackout curtains are already-”

He groaned, dragging the duvet further over himself and attempting to roll over. His shoulder was far less sore than it was a week ago, but the ache between his legs throbbed with malice.

He hitched a leg up, grinding down onto the bed with a groan. Too soft, too giving, just teasing the need higher until it caught in his throat and sunk back deep in his gut. Yeah, this needed to end. Now.

With a grunt and a grimace, he shoved himself out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom. This was a singular issue, and it would require research to resolve. Lots of research. Where the hell is the toothpaste?

He found the tube, and got on with his morning ‘Get-Your-Shit-Together’ routine. Fortunately, he was a genius - billionaire philanthropist superhero playboy genius, as he liked to remind. Unfortunately that ended at about exactly where his dick started. And as it throbbed, neglected in his boxers, he groaned.

The singular issue hadn’t been an issue two weeks ago when Peter and Pepper were in town. Sure, they had to sneak around the compound or make sure Morgan was sleeping first, but it was _fine_.

And then Pepper took Morgan to Wakanda for a business whateverthefuck and Peter started at MIT and his new vibranium arm came in from Wakanda, and Bruce got it all hooked up, and he then proceeded to jolt, shock, vibrate, smash, and otherwise terrorize anything he attempted with his right hand; and at this age, with his experience, he couldn't even pretend to get the relief he needed with one weak, non-dominant hand.

Luckily, he could use F.R.I.D.A.Y. to help with some coding, DUM-E and U were...well, they were idiots but they meant well and kept spirits high. He could not, however, order one AI and two robots to help him jerk off. So between himself, his new arm, and his old dick, he suffered.

He was making his way to the common kitchen, caffeine and brooding being the last steps of his routine, debating taking the suit to Boston, when his retina was thoroughly attacked by something bright, and abrasive. 

The light poured through the massive windows and bounced off of Bucky’s arm, directly into his groggy and _So-not-a-morning-person_ eyes. Bucky. Barnes. As in James Buchanan Barnes, as in the absolute unit of a snack with the vibranium arm. Research. Help. He could help...with _research_.

He eased himself into the kitchen propper and lined up across the granite island, quickly eyeing the coffee pot. There was more. Hallelujah. Bucky had obviously made it though. Shit. Someone ought to tell that man that coffee shouldn’t taste like Depression-Era grief, and pass it on to Steve too.

"Hey, Buck... Buckaroo...Buckaroni". He failed to hide the cringe emanating from deep in his gut, somewhere above the lingering ache.

Bucky just raised a brow, coffee mug still pressed to his lips. "Tony?"

"How... how's it hangin' there, pal?"

The mug hit the counter. "Pardon?"

Tony gestured weakly to Bucky's arm, the vibranium one that whirred in annoyance as his fist unclenched. "The...your arm...how?" _Fucking Christ, Stark, pull it together. It's been two weeks, just ask him for a pointer and go handle this, now!_

"The one hanging off of my shoulder or the one hanging in Azzano?" _Yikes_

"N-no, okay, I-" Tony sighed, dropping into the stool across the island. He propped his head up in his hands and dragged his fingers through his hair, the scrape of the vibranium on his scalp doing little to alleviate the tugging heat coiling lower in his gut. Two weeks. He can do this. "I'm just gonna come out with it, Buch-Barnes? James? Jim. This is serious, Jim."

"If you value your other arm you will not call me Jim. Understood?" His tone wasn't as serious as his words. Was he...amused? The coil tightened.

"Right. Bucky. Okay...." He took a deep breath, avoiding the weight of the gaze he could feel on him. "As I was saying, coming out with it..."

Bucky snorted "What, you're a bit of a pillow biting princess? Yeah, we know." He took a slow draft of his coffee, steel eyes still locked onto the blush scorching Tony's edges.

"Y-yeah, but I...this arm is new and I have to re-learn some things and I...I need your help." This had never been an issue before, he’d talked himself into so many far more deplorable acts, why was this an issue?

Bucky made some grunt of mild approval. "You _need_ my _help?_ " He flicked the cup twice, the tintinnabulation of metal on ceramic ringing. It didn't crack. Didn't even shift. "With your arm?"

"Yes...well, with the...I need to use my arm." Fuck this was not going nearly as smoothly as planned. But what even was the plan? Just walk in at 7am and ask a WWII-Vet H.Y.D.R.A.-escapee-cyborg to teach him how to jerk off in the cold judgemental light of day? Smooth plan. _Real smooth._

"I am not... I'm not used to th-the pressure adjusting, I guess, and I need to do some things that require a, uh, uhm..."

Bucky was circling the top of the mug with one vibranium finger, only the faintest interest on his face. The mug didn't shift, he could barely hear the contact. "...what do they require, Tony?" His voice was morning gravel, and maybe a little thirst. The ache spread.

"J-just, like, m-more uh..."

Bucky leaned toward him, gently lifting the mug with one finger through the handle loop and set it to the side without a sound. "What? Expertise? Control? Gentleness? Spit it out, doll."

Tony's eyes locked to his, mirth written all over that smirk. "I need to fucking cum it's been two weeks and I don't know how to get it right with this fucking arm and Pepper is out of town and Peter is in Boston and we have strict rules and I'm fuckin dying here so please, Bucky, please, how the hell do you jerk off with a vibranium arm?"

Bucky laughed. It rolled and bounced through the room, the sound of it. "With the other hand."

It halted. Screeched, veered and halted. "What? Seriously?". This wasn’t going to work with one hand, he’d already tried it with one hand, he needed _more_.

Bucky chuckled again. "Uh, no. This thing vibrates," he wiggled his silver fingers " Of course I use it."

Wait, his vibrates? _Does Tony's vibrate?_

As if he could read minds, Barnes spoke up, standing from his stool. "You're about to find out. Let's go."

\---

Bucky gestured to the couches. His apartment in the compound was suitably masculine, without the overbearing notes of ‘I have penis, hear me roar’ that sometimes accompanied the man. Far more modern than before he’d moved in, and Steve had had the place looking like a poorly-curated antique shop. Tony had seriously questioned if the serum was fading and he’d gone colorblind again, debated running it by Bruce, who isn’t, however, that kind of doctor.

“Coffee?” Bucky posed, from the kitchen.

“No, thank you.” Tony gave, plopping to the couch. 

Bucky grunted his affirmation, and moseyed over to the seat next to him. “So you need help with your dick.”

_Yep, fantastically smooth plan._ “No, my di - my _arm_ , I need help with my _arm_.” 

Bucky nodded. “Have you tried turning down the sensitivity?”

He could see the gears turning behind Tony’s eyes. “I mean, it’s definitely not as much of a hair-trigger as when I was in college but-”

“The sensitivity of your arm,” Bucky clarified.

“O-oh...uh...well it’s voice activated for neural connectivity settings like that, and I don’t speak Wakandan Xhosa.”

Bucky nodded, eyes scraping across Tony’s form, up and down, while the scratch of his fingers against stubble filled the silence. The ache flared. Tony shifted.

“Alright,” He spoke up finally “can you shift the plates at will, like, flatten them?” He held out his left arm, showing Tony the bevel and divet of the plates and then a shift apart and together to form a jagged and then smooth surface, it whirred and clicked. 

“Uh...y-yeah.” Tony held his right arm out in response. After a moment, the panels of his own arm were smoother and larger than those of Bucky's, making the cinching into a smooth surface much easier than he’d thought. 

Bucky gave a hum of approval. “Welp, there ya go!” He clapped his hands onto his thighs and stood, making his way...away.

“W-wait!”

He stopped, the look in his eyes expectant. “Hm?”

“How do I...if it’s…” He shifted in his seat again, pink up to his ears, “ how do I keep it like this, smooth, I guess, if they’re...inside.” He’d expected Bucky the balk at the question, maybe make some sharp retort, but instead he turned, and stepped closer. He kept stepping, then into Tony’s space, then leaned down, picking up Tony’s metal arm with his flesh one.

“Try to broaden it.” He mumbled. Tony blinked at him a few times, registering some pressure from Bucky’s grasp, and the warmth of his body heat. He wondered, for a moment, how much pressure he was actually applying, how it’d feel against his own flesh. The heat washed down his spine and he readjusted, his cock throbbing back to life.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll take it as a compliment,” Bucky noted, giving the wrist a squeeze. Tony’s eyes darted down to his crotch, half-erection obvious through his sweats. The pink of his blush darkened. “Just try to move the panels apart.”

His eyes made it half-way back up before catching at Bucky’s own bulge in front of him. God, grey sweats should be illegal in the compound. It’d already gotten him and Peter into enough trouble, he didn’t need any more of that. Except it had been two weeks and he desperately needed a lot more of that.

“See somethin’ ya like, there, doll?” Bucky mused, that low timber back in his voice. Tony cleared his throat.

“Huh?”

“Ya learn to follow directions, might earn somethin’. Now spread 'em.” He squeezed the wrist. Tony gave a jolted nod, focusing to spread the plates. 

"Good."

Tony forced himself to focus and be _professional_ , this was for _research._

"Now if this happens... _inside_ you basically just retract up to here," he turned Tony's arm with what seemed like no effort, to the ache's emphatic interest, and traced a metal finger from his palm to the tip of his middle finger. His mouth went dry at the unyielding contact. "No plate joints here, and then close 'em again before you go back in. Keeps it fairly smooth."

Tony nodded through the soft haze behind his eyes, shifting the plates shut in Bucky's grasp.

"Exactly, but not when I'm holdin' it because now you're pinching me."

"Shit, sorry!" He relaxed his arm all at once, Bucky didn't seem to be affected by the weight of it.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, doll," he mused back, sucking briefly on the small pinch of his flesh pointer finger. Tony couldn't quite drag his eyes away from the lips nursing that ache. "Little pain never hurt nobody, least not any way they didn't like."

He met Bucky's gaze just in time to catch the wink that sent a trickle of heat down his spine.

"Doesn't have to be closed though, some people... it's that thing - _ribbed for her pleasure_ , and whatnot."

"O-or his." He meant for that to sound a lot more coherent.

Bucky made some half-grunt of agreement. "Peter?"

"Yeah. It’s the big, brown, sparkly, fuckin’ doe eyes. I don’t wanna hurt him.” _Least not any way he wouldn’t like._

Bucky chuckled, and lowered himself to sit on the stained wooden coffee table, which didn’t so much as creak under his weight. “Yeah, he’s a looker.”

Tony quirked a brow. “What, you interested?”

He nearly snorted, giving his jaw a scratch again. “Alls I’m sayin,’ is that I can sympathize with a…” he took a deep breath, hissed it back out, “...a soft spot for those, hmm, _big, brown, sparkly fuckin’ doe eyes.”_

It took a second, took several more than it should have, for that to add up for Tony. And when it did, the ache roared. He needed to either handle this here or leave immediately, hide the wet spot he was sure he’d be sporting by now, and handle it elsewhere. "Excuse me, Mr.Barnes, are you...flirting with me?"

Bucky shrugged, leaning closer, panels on his arm whirring shut. "Well, darlin', that depends. Do you want me to be?"

Something, then, washed over Tony. That familiar veil of silk and smoke that surrounded him when he had his eyes set on something he was sure he could finesse. "You? Yes. The flirting? I'm not opposed."

Bucky gave him a smirk, blue eyes sparkling darker. "And these 'strict rules' of yours...they keep this all to flirting?" His voice was low, more a rumble than a whisper that had goosebumps prickling up Tony's flesh arm.

"I'd have to notify them, just send a text. Why? You got something more-than-flirting in mind?" He wrung his wrist, keeping the plates shut with a little extra focus.

Bucky shrugged. "Got quite a lot on my mind, wouldn't mind pickin' yours. Panels shut, of course."

Tony couldn't quite break Bucky's gaze, sharp and fixed, predatory. Like if he'd turned his back or looked away for a moment he'd find himself on his back. He swallowed down the thought of being under the man before him and reached into his pocket, withdrawing his phone.

He brought it up to his lips, noting Bucky's gaze flicking to them and back up to his eyes. "FRI, tell Pep and Baby we got a Code: IronWinter, thanks."

"Of course, Sir. Please remember to mind your shoulder and use protection."

"I'm not a virgin, FRI, I know what I'm doing here."

"You sure?" Bucky drawled, wiggling his vibranium fingers silently.

"I _do_ have internet connectivity, Sir. I am aware of your history." Goddamn snarky AI watching his sex-tapes. 

Tony rolled his eyes and put his phone away. 

"You fuck the entire internet or something?" Bucky posed, amused.

"Somethin' like that, yeah."

"Code: IronWinter?"

"Peter's idea."

"Lesson two?"

"God, please."

With a nod, Bucky shifted. He placed his knee between Tony's on the couch and braced his weight on the back behind Tony, towering over him. His flesh hand tapped his bottom lip. "Can I get somethin' sweet? Rules allow for that?"

Tony's hands sifted into Bucky's hair, thick and soft, pulling him in to press their lips together. He was plush, warm, tongue asking permission before the taste of coffee and mint and a familiar smoke had Tony's back arching. The touch alone, after two weeks, was quickly making his head spin.

Bucky's flesh hand slid from his jaw, down to his chest, following the scarring under the thin cotton to his metal arm. He pressed gently, pushing Tony's hand out of his hair and down into his lap. "Touch yourself for me, doll." He rumbled, into Tony's ear as his lips pressed to his pulse "That alright?"

"Yeah." He hadn't meant to be so breathless but it wasn't his fault the room didn't have nearly enough air. He slid his metal hand, plates firmly closed, into his pants, taking himself out carefully.

He was flushed, a desperate throbbing red, fattened up and aching. The cool air on the wet head had him hissing, as Bucky groaned, teeth skimming the sensitivity of his neck. "Good." Tony nodded. "May I? That okay, if I touch there?"

He nodded again. Bucky kneeled, knees just inside of Tony's feet on the floor. He held his gaze, as Bucky raised a metal thumb to his lips, popping the tip in for just a moment. Did it taste metallic? Like iron, blood? Tony's mouth watered, he swallowed, throbbed. The coil threatened to strangle him as it knotted tighter below his navel.

"You got nerves," Bucky began, barely audible, his thumb traced lightly, barely tactile, from the hilt of Tony's cock to just under the tip. The cool smoothness of his thumb against the most sensitive part of him had his hips squirming. "Got nerves here." He wrapped the rest of his fingers around.

"Bucky, please."

"I know, sugar." He kissed the inside of Tony's knee. "I know."

His thumb began to work in slow circles, just rubbing, just pressing. "It's an unyielding material, this hand." Yeah, damn straight it was. It was _also_ an unyielding erection and an immovable craving. "So the nerves, here," and then he did something with that thumb and the fingers wrapped around him, some push and pull that had Tony's head falling back with a moan, his balls threatening tighter.

"Can't work with that normal slide and friction of a flesh hand. Won't work that way."

Well whatever he was doing, between the thumb working his tip and the other hand stroking up his thigh and waist, _that_ was working. Tony forced his eyes back open, but kept his gaze up. He wouldn't last if he looked, he could feel it, the valence of his orgasm easing slowly into the periphery.

"So instead, you use more pressure." His grip tightened, fireworks went off somewhere in Tony's nervous system.

"Oh, god, fuck, fuck."

"Yep." He kissed Tony's thigh, dragged nails down his waist. "Feel good?"

"Yeah, yes." He hissed.

"It's that rolling press, push on the nerves instead of strokin' 'em, don't let up as much. Not so much room to breathe."

It felt like pleasure pressing in, not stroking out; overlapping waves of 'god, fuck, yes' he was subjected to, and only ached for more. He was going to suffocate if he didn't cum soon.

Tony could only nod, hips rolling into Bucky's grasp.

"More, please, fuck, more, Bucky." The desperation had seeped into his voice, shaking with the feverish heat under his skin. 

Bucky tisked at him, withdrawing his hand to a low whine from Tony. “Your turn.” He tapped twice on Tony’s vibranium fingers.

With a groan and a deep breath, Tony sat up a bit straighter and gingerly grasped himself. It wasn’t the same as Bucky’s hand, but it was still damn good. He leaned over, giving up some spit to smooth out the drag, and pressed two fingers under the tip, where Bucky’s thumb had been. 

He pressed and rubbed in a circle, meant to keep it slow, but the waves of pleasure rolling off of the motion had him nearly frantic. He picked up to a quicker pace, panting, eyes screwed shut. 

“Good.” Bucky’s voice broke through the haze, and settled soft.

“Can I…” Tony panted, hips rolling into his grip. “More?”

He felt lips and stubble, soft and prickling against his neck. “Of course, doll. What do you need?”

His flesh hand dipped down from where it had been perched, teasing his nipples to dusty hard peaks with near autonomy, and cupped, rubbing at his balls. He stuttered out a whine when a metal hand grabbed his wrist, stilling the relief.

“Words, sweet thing, what do you need?”

“Lube.” Bucky let go. “I need it...need it inside. Please.”

He opened his eyes when lips pressed against his, before they fluttered shut again. He could feel the bottle set by his hip. He left his balls alone, regretfully, and broke the kiss to pop the bottle open. Bucky’s lips drifted to his jaw, ear, throat, while his metal hand drew maddening circles around Tony’s nipple. 

He got his fingers slicked as quickly as he could manage through the thick fog, and pressed against the fluttering hole behind his balls. Bucky’s moan shivered down his spine. His flesh fingers slipped inside with a sigh and he made hasty work of getting in up to the knuckle.

He curved his hips, squirming and wiggling, and the stretch felt like heaven and hell all at once, because he couldn’t find the damned spot. Always had trouble reaching it on his own but now, older, he was far less flexible at the joints.

“Fuck, I can’t...I need it, Bucky, please, I can’t reach.” He was not proud of he begging but he’d lose his mind if he didn’t get what he needed right fucking now.

Bucky bit into the flesh between his neck and shoulder, humming his assent. “That alright with the Missus?”

“I-it’s allowed,” He ground his hips down, middle finger grazing the bottom of where he so desperately craved contact. “Please.”

“And the boy?”

Tony tried to press a third finger in, but it wasn’t as slick, and wider didn’t mean deeper. “Mhmm.”

“Words, doll, use your words.”

“It’s fine, I - we - FRI texted them, it’s fine,” his cock throbbed at the roll of Bucky’s tongue across his pulse. “God, fuck, please.”

Bucky’s hand left his hair. He grabbed the lube bottle and tipped it enough to leak before setting this back down on the coffee table, sliding it around the silver fingers. He tapped twice at Tony’s hand, which quickly withdrew, back to groping his balls.

Both fingers entered him with little struggle, to a moan from the both of them. Tony’s mouth found Bucky’s with a precision and hunger. “There you go, sweetheart.” He managed between pecks. 

Tony’s head fell back at nearly a shout as Bucky’s fingers, cold and unrelenting, curled, pressed into his prostate. He stroked over it and long draws, keeping the pressure consistent. His hand shot to Bucky’s shirt, balling the material into a fist.

“Fu-uck.”

His hips worked of their own volition, grinding and rolling back onto Bucky’s hand, his own vibranium fingers working his cock. “That’s it, doll, ride my fuckin’ hand.”

He swallowed, thick and heavy, the pace becoming rash, scandalous moans falling out of Tony on each stroke and little gasps the other way. Bucky’s other hand grabbed his jaw, pulling him back into the kiss, tongue all morning coffee and lust.

“Starving for it, aren’t you? With that desperate little hole.”

He was going to respond, going to justify it, remind him of the two weeks and the high needs and the new arm, when he barely caught the start of a low thrum, and the white-hot pleasure wiped his mind blank.

Bucky swallowed the yelp, holding Tony’s mouth to his by the back of his neck, fingers vibrating against the spot that had Tony squirming and trembling. Tony’s own arm worked faster, each moan rising higher.

The coil in his gut stretched tight, heat scorching him to his core as Bucky’s fingers pushed him to the edge of his orgasm. He hung there on the peak for just a moment, lips, on a silent whine.

He had barely formed the question of where Bucky’s lips had gone, when they’d departed from him, when the _wetsuckhotyes_ of a tongue pushed over the slit of his cock. Bucky hollowed his cheeks, hand still gripped to the back of Tony’s neck.

“Oh, f-”

The thread snapped, and he plummeted. His back arched and he couldn’t fucking think, couldn’t breathe as the waves drowned each nerve, each live wire, in ecstasy. After the first wave of bliss passed, void filled immediately by the overwhelming rush of release. He shuddered and groaned, as Bucky milked him, soothed him through it. 

He floated back to reality slowly, Bucky pressing into him slowly with one finger, lips to cheek. Had he swallowed that?

“You with me?”

Tony nodded. “Jesus.”

“It’s pronounced ‘James’, but sure.”

His hand settled on Bucky’s thigh. “Can I…?”

Bucky dropped his head, “Sorry, doll. You’re not the only one with rules. That belongs strictly to The Punk.”

He hadn’t even thought of that. He _was_ in Steve and Bucky’s apartment after all. Oh, God, he didn’t even ask.

“Don’t worry about it, he ain’t the jealous type, mostly. We got the rules so that doesn’t happen.” He kissed his temple. “You want a glass o’ water?”

Tony nodded. It added up. “So you guys are…?”

“Gay? Open? Old?” He made it to the fridge, tall glass already held easy in his metal hand. “Yep.”

“Since when?” He leaned back, smoothing his hands through his hair and putting his dick away. 

“Well, Stevie’s gay, I am...how do I put this...an equal opportunity vibrator?”

Tony snorted. Taking the glass offered to him as Bucky took a seat again on the table.

“Since when have you been open?” He clarified after taking a deep swig.

Bucky shrugged, “ ‘42, I think. You’d have to ask him, he remembers better.”

His brows darted up, “So this whole time…?”

“Yeah, what you thought you’d invented the concept or somethin’? Where do you think Pete got the nerve to bring it up to you?”

He sunk into the couch for a moment and finished his glass as Bucky sipped on his. “Well, I’m sure you got shit to do, people to harass.” He patted Tony twice on the knee and stood. 

Tony made it to his feet, far more stable than he’d expected. “Yeah, thank you, I uh...thanks.”

“Sure thing, doll.”

They got to the door easily, and Bucky took the glass, seeing him out. He was about to head back to his own apartment when he ran into a wall? Slab? Pillar? A Steve. He balked, reddened. Steve had clearly just returned from his morning run, barely even flushed.

“Morning. Y’alright?”

Tony nodded and turned past him, as Steve shrugged and opened the door to their apartment. 

“Dammit, Buck, you suckin’ dick in here again?”

Tony could have died. _Again?_

“You’re supposed to wait f-”

“I’m not waiting for you to go walkabout around the whole tri-state-area before I live my life, Stevie.”

“You’re a goddamn share-crop, you know that?”

“You like it.”

Tony carried on down the hall, and out of earshot until he was back in his own quarters. He sat down on the edge of the bed, expecting some buzz of _get up, move, go_ , but instead felt sated, at least for now.

He whipped out his phone, to a text from Peter.

_“How was Code: IronWinter?”_

_“The arm vibrates.”_ He sent back, nearly giddy.

_“Details! I need details, now!”_

He laid back, scooting up the bed and getting ready to share the play-by-play.

**Author's Note:**

> Gimme them plot bunnies if you got 'em! I'm trying to keep up the writing practice and I'm having fun.


End file.
